


This is not what you think it is

by FrankieJohns



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Minor Character Death, Not tagging for spoilers but if you have a question feel free to comment and ill reply with info, Post-His Last Vow, Post-Season/Series 03, just weird ...stuff, no trigger stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-08-03
Packaged: 2018-04-08 20:05:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4318119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrankieJohns/pseuds/FrankieJohns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It begins with a drink, a kiss, a shared kiss, and a conversation. Post Season Three Fic in which Sherlock and John come together in the oddest of ways.</p><p>Edit: Okay this story has gotten away from me. I am writing it entirely without an outline. I've no idea what is happening. I do want to say that Johnlock is endgame in this (cough) and hopefully the show (cough) but I dunno I got bored with writing other things and so a nugget of a story start got lodged in my brain and I wrote this one. So yeah it's taking some odd terms but...yeah Johnlock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It starts with one drink, a celebration after Sherlock had finally laid the final bit of Moriarty's network to rest. He, Lestrade , John, Molly, and Mary went out for a few drinks. He, of course, had to be forced along. It was never his thing to be around people. The first drinks came and shockingly Sherlock downed it, and then another and another.

 

"Slow down there. Gives us a chance to catch up, " Lestrade said with a smirk.

"I'm perfectly capable of knowing my limits as Molly can attest to."

"It's true. He is a graduate chemist and can very well calculate what is his limit," Molly said.

"Right but didn't you two end up drunk on some stairs because you miscalculated quite a bit," Mary pointed out helpfully.

Sherlock said nothing and took another sip of the fruity drink that he found he was quite enjoying.

"Well," John said. "That was a bit my fault."

"What do you mean?" Sherlock asked. And the whole of the table looked at John curiously. They'd all heard the tale of the worst bachelor party ever but this was new information.

"Well I." John ran a hand over his neck, as if easing out the tension of the moment. "I kinda added to our intake."

"But how?" Sherlock asked then said. "Oh, you added an accelerate in the form of higher proof liquors to our drinks."

"Something like that," John said and looked up apologetically.  They were all sat around a table in the back of a bar. Lestrade and Molly were sat on one side, John and Mary on the other. Sherlock was sat at the very end of the table like a king among his loyal knights. John thought to himself he supposes in a way they all were. He couldn't think of any of them who wouldn't do almost anything for Sherlock. 

"Well," Sherlock said. "Then I accept your pending apology for ruining your own stag night."

"Ahh," John said. "I suppose you're right. In the end it was my fault."

"Well," Mary said and leaned closed to John. "At least you guys had a nice story to tell in the end."

And with that they all gave a cheer and drank more. They all did indeed catch up to Sherlock and then Molly and Lestrade surpassed him. They both ended up packing it in around 9 with a wave as they hopped in the back of a taxi.

"Well," John gave a lop-sided grin at them. "I suppose Greg will me making his move tonight."

Mary giggled.

"What do you mean?" Sherlock asked.

"Come on," John said. "You know."

"Oh," Sherlock said. "You mean copulation? No, no I don't think so."

"Sherlock, of course they are! They've both had just enough to drink to make a fun mistake," Mary said.

"Is that how it works?" Sherlock asked.

"Oh, love, I forget how much you don't understand. Well , yes, that is how it works sometimes."

"Well," Sherlock said and nodded at the bartender (old acquaintance, helped him get out of a mess with a bookie) to bring them all another round. Sherlock then cleared his throat and said, "Still. I believe Greg's chivalry and nerves will win out. He cares deeply for Molly Hooper. He'll want to show her she's worth the wait."

Sherlock finished with a wave of his hands then looked up to see both Mary and John looking at him stunned.

"Well," Mary said with a smile. "You do understand some things."

John simply smiled. Sherlock noticed his shoulders relax just a little, one of the biggest indicators that John was completely content at the moment. It only lasted a moment before the drinks arrived and Sherlock took another drink and waved a hand to the others to drink up.

 

***

They were closer to 221B so they told the cabbie to take them there, they all fell out of the cab. Sherlock upon landing declared loudly that the pavement must have changed shape somehow. This threw Mary into a fit of giggles as she landed beside him. She rolled over to grab his shoulder as if it could help her stop giggling. John simply lay on his back and looked up at the stars. 

"John, John?"

"Right here, love," John said and reached a hand to roll Sherlock over  so he could appreciate the view as well. Sherlock gave a grunt and turned over then followed John's gaze up to the stars.

"Ah," he said."They're very bright tonight."

"Blackout. Earth day thing," John said and continued staring.

"He means," Mary said and turned over to look up as well."People were asked to turn out all their lights so people could look up at the stars without all that light pollution. Somehow the government got involved and so tonight they aren't really bright as we're actually able to see them."

"Ah," Sherlock said again. "For a moment I wondered if alcohol beverages affected your ability to see beautiful things more clearly. Which is, of course, a ludicrous notion but you know...I am a bit pissed." He ended with a giggle which immediately infected Mary and John.

"We all are, mate," John said.

"Just drunk enough to make mistakes," Sherlock said.

"Right," John agreed then realized he had no idea what Sherlock was talking about and he turned to ask him but he found Sherlock had turned away. John sat up and looked over fully, it was so dark on the street but he squinted and through the haze of drink and the barely there light he saw Sherlock's large hands firmly on Mary's head, and Mary's hand buried in Sherlock's hair. And there could be no doubt that they were kissing.

John's mouth dropped open and he was going to scream at them to stop but before he could Sherlock pulled away, turned to look at John and pulled John back down.

"Sherlock, what the?" was all John could get out before Sherlock kissed him. There was no preamble as Sherlock slipped his tongue past John's lips and into his mouth. John mentally tried to say it's only the drink, just ignore it but a larger part of him absolutely would no longer be silenced and came to life shouting finally, finally, finally. John kissed Sherlock back with passion he hadn't felt in years. Then Sherlock pulled back from him. John gasped for breath and looked over at Sherlock then at Mary who had sat up and was staring at them.

"Finally," she said.

"What?" John asked.

"Shall we all go upstairs? Although I am quite drunk, I am also a genius," Sherlock said. "And my genius tells me that we shouldn't be snogging on the pavement."

John couldn't help but laugh, Mary joined him shortly after and they all walked to the door and up into 221B.

 


	2. Chapter 2

It wasn't supposed to happen like that, John thinks. He's in the kitchen of 221B making coffee because of course he's making coffee. He, his best, and his wife just all shared a snog on the pavement outside and this obviously means he needs to sober the fuck up. All of them do. He's clanging pots and cups and making sure to check out every few seconds. Finally it's all done and he pours everyone a cup and he brings a tray of them all out to the sitting area. Mary is sitting next to Sherlock on the sofa running her fingers through Sherlock's hair and Sherlock has a dopey smile on his face that John just wants to kiss off, he means slap off, something. He's still quite drunk and he knows this is very, very weird. 

John sits down next to Sherlock on his opposite side and clears his throat. They all need to talk about that.

"Sherlock?" 

"No."

"No?" John asks. "What do you mean no?"

"He means , love, no," Mary adds. John looks over at her with a stern look. They're doing that thing again where they're both far ahead of John and he doesn't like it one bit.  But then she adds a smile and John decides to let it go. After all she seems to be having fun and after everything she deserves it as much as they all do. The very quick mission to help Sherlock defeat Sebastian Moran ended up being the one where she got hurt and they lost their child. She seemed to bounce back quickly but after that her smiles were never quite as easy.

"Sorry, I just," John tries again. "I think we should talk about it."

"And that is why I said no," Sherlock says. He raises his eyebrows as if to imply John was an idiot.  John felt like one right now.

"Why did you kiss...," John tried to pick between the two. He figured asking about Mary was safer. If he asked about his own Sherlock kiss then his own involvement might be questioned. "Why did you kiss Mary?"

"Ahh," Sherlock says and he smacks his lips. "That was an interesting one. Mary do you have any ideas?"

"Eight, no six, no two."

"Care to share one of them with me," John says and furrows his eyes at her.

"Well," Mary says. "I think he kissed me because he wanted to kiss a woman."

"Corrrrect," Sherlock says and rolls his r's, giggles, sticks out his tongue and rolls them again. 

"Fine then," John says. "So you just wanted to kiss a woman and a man is that it?"

"Ehhhhh," Sherlock says. "Get a little more complicated than that but I suppose if we are being simplistic about it then yes."

"Okay," John says and sits back, more at ease. "Just curiosity I suppose. One of your bloody experiments." John closes his eyes and leans back into the couch. That's fine he supposes. A drunken experiment. That's fine, he thinks, and no reason to discuss it further. He's finally getting relaxed again when he hears Sherlock whisper to Mary.

"Do you find me attractive then?" Sherlock asks Mary.

"Everyone finds you attractive, Sherlock. And me?"

"No," Sherlock says. John opens his eyes just in time to see Mary swat at him. "But I do see what John sees in you. I could bed you if I were to bed a woman."

"You could bed me? Oh sweet talker."

John sits up. "What the hell is going on here?"

"No." Sherlock and Mary both say.

"Enough of that. I-I may not be as smart as you lot , but I have a right to know." John finishes exasperated and looks from Mary to Sherlock and back again. 

Finally Sherlock turns away from Mary and smirks at John. "John, why did you kiss me back?"


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlock looked over at John, face relaxed. John couldn't say it wasn't quite far from what it looked like the last time he saw him drunk like this on his stag night. Part of John wanted to smile at Sherlock so relaxed, such a difference from most days. He's eyes turned to Mary then. She leaned her head on Sherlock's shoulder, Sherlock snaked his am around her waist. They both stared over at him waiting for an answer. John could not believe this was happening. This was beyond abnormal. _Wasn't it?_

 

"I-I-I," he started to say but couldn't quite figure out what the next word should be.

 

"If you could possibly make it an honest answer then it would save us all a world of trouble," Sherlock said. Mary nodded her head in agreement and blinked her eyes slowly at him. John couldn't help but look at the two of them so close together, just a few months ago she had shot him and he had exposed her lies. And yet they were cozy as can be. How, John wondered, have they moved on so easily? Especially when he still had anger over the whole situation. Over Mary's months and months of lying. Over Sherlock never telling John who she was. Of course Sherlock said he didn't know until that night but John can't help but wonder. Especially now with them both so cozy. 

 

"John?" Mary sits up and looks directly at John. "Are you okay?"

 

John isn't okay. He is not sure he'll ever be okay again. He's being confronted about something he doesn't want to think about and all the while he's drunk. He turns away from the both of them and reaches out to the mug sat on the table. He brings it to his lips and takes down a large gulp, hoping against logic that somehow it'll work fast. Maybe the coffee can also solve his problem of wondering just what to say. He is sure there is something he should saying but then there is a buzzing in his ear and it's very hot in here. John stands up quickly, stumbles forward a bit.  

 

Sherlock is on his feet in seconds, his arms go around John and he holds him steady.

 

 

 

"John?"

 

"Sherlock, Sherlock I--?" John looks at him and tries to think , tries to breathe, tries to stand up. But a second later his eyes close and really he's very tired and wouldn't it be okay to just sleep?

 

***

 

Sherlock goes to the kitchen and wets a cloth, he is back in moments and patting John's face.

 

"We should have," Mary starts to say then stops. She isn't quite sure what they could have done different, something that didn't involve John ending up fainting on the floor for sure.

 

"He'll be fine," Sherlock says. It is obvious to him that he is saying this not to reassure her but his own self. He even does this ridiculous thing of repeating it. "He'll be fine."

 

John begins to stir after the longest minute in Sherlock's life. His head moves from side to side , as if he's trying to shake something out of his head. His eyes blink slowly open and he looks up at Sherlock.

 

"Sher-Sher , what happened?" John sits up then and looks around, it dawns on him slowly that he's at 221B. He looks around the flat, at Mary standing looking worried and then finally at Sherlock sitting by his side with a wet flannel dripping in his hands.

 

"You fainted."

 

"That is--that is embarrassing."

 

"Not at all," Sherlock stands quickly, drops the flannel on the floor besides John. "Me and Mary are prepared to forget it if you'd like."

 

"Please?" John says. He runs a hand over his face, takes a breath, stands.  Then the rest of it all dawns on him too. The reason that he fainted, the reason that he had an uneasy feeling from the moment he regained consciousnesses. At that moment he turns to Sherlock who is standing far too close to him. Sherlock's hand moves to take John's. John doesn't move, doesn't really know how he should be acting, doesn't know what is right here, what's the right thing to do.

 

"John, I need you to be honest with me."

 

Mary moves closer to them both and takes John's hand in hers. It's John's turn to say no and he does.

 

"No," John says.

 

Mary laughs. "That's our line."

 

"I don't care. If what I think is happening is happening then you've both lost your bloody minds. There is not enough alcohol in the world."

 

"Why not?" Sherlock asks. Almost as if he's simply curious and not hurt.

 

"What do you mean why not?" John says. "Because I am not have a-a bloody threesome with you and my wife."

 

"Why not?" Mary asks next. Same note of curiosity in her voice.

 

"Because," John says snatching his hand away from them both. "I-I'm just not. For one I'm--." He stops himself. He was going to say 'not gay' but since he spent the night earlier kissing Sherlock like a man dying then he knows that answer isn't going to work with two of the smartest people he ever met. Plus they both must know. He knows at least Mary knows. She's known for ages that he could, not that he ever would. He absolutely wouldn't.

 

But one night when they were waiting on word back from Sherlock, waiting to find out if Sherlock was okay as he was back in Serbia finding information on the hidden Moriarty network, they both got utterly and completely shit-faced waiting to hear if he was dead or alive. It was good actually, they were both able to release some tension between them and it was almost like it was between them in the beginning. More than a few scotchs past John's limit Mary snuggled next to him. The warmth of her next to him was nice for once and he couldn't help but think about what they hadn't done in a while. He turned to her, lifted a hand to tilt her chin.

 

"I have missed this," he said.

 

She closed the distance and kissed him sweetly then said, "I missed you."

 

It was just then that Sherlock finally got in touch. A text message sent to John and Mary alerted that not only was he okay but he was already annoyed to be dealing with Mycroft's people again. John had read the text, laughed, and then immediately gotten back to Mary. Kissing her with even more vigor than before. As he kissed her, she pulled him back with her. John, being a bit tipsy and absolutely in need, happily leaned into the touch.  Their mouths coming together again with the clear intent to do more had been missing from their relationship but also the sheer relief that Sherlock was okay and Sherlock will be back and hopefully it will be over and Sherlock will be in his life for good and John feels a stronger vigor take over him. He kisses Mary then moves to her neck, in a flash he is imagining Sherlock's neck. He shakes his head then gets back to kissing and licking and there is far too much drink in him and far too much absolute glee at thinking they could all move past it and then he can't stop, he just released all the tension and he--

 

"Oh, oh love. It's okay." Mary gave him a gentle pat on the back and even added a kiss.

 

He is embarrassed and humiliated and still all he can focus on is that Sherlock is coming back.

 

"I'm, I'm sorry," John shifts off Mary and sits back. Mary gives him a sympathetic smile and sits up as well.

 

"No worries. Just--can I ask a question?"

 

John blows out a breath  but what he just did, he can't deny her a thing, plus he's still feeling the scotch a bit.

 

"Go for it," he says and leans his head back on the sofa, which proves to be a bad idea as he gets dizzy so he sits up and looks at her, blinking, feeling the tired wash over him.

 

"When did you realize you were first attracted to Sherlock?"

 

"What? I-I," John sputters out. He isn't sure where this is coming from and he isn't sure where it's going. "I don't know what you mean."

 

"John," Mary says and leans her head to the side, it's a move John knows well, meant to convey empathy, caring. "I'm--Can I tell you something?"

 

"What?" He says, hoping that she'll talk herself out and he won't have to think about her question. 

 

"I love you. I really do." She stops and turns away then back to him. "But I've not been great for you."

 

"Mary..."

 

"I mean I started off great. I helped. Didn't I? With getting over....," She trails off and John is grateful that she doesn't mention Sherlock's faked death, which still stings a bit, but he gets the point.

 

"You were great," John says. "You are great."

 

"No," Mary says shaking her head. "I'm really not." She takes a breath and sighs. "I knew--I know."

 

"What do you know?"

 

"I know that you love me just enough and would've stayed because of our child, but just." and she began to cry, sob even. John wasn't sure what it was that was causing it. She only mourned the child for so long. He himself had been holding it in for her sake. He didn't want to fall apart when she was trying to be strong, and maybe that was her makeup to just move on. But the sobs, most likely aided by far too much alcohol were coming out. He pushed the bottle away from them on the table as if ti say definitely enough, she caught him doing it out the corner of her eye and laughed a bit.

 

"Probably for the best," she says but the tears are still flowing.

 

John's voice somehow takes on an entirely different character, almost foreign to him, it's rough and shaky. As if he was the one crying. "I," he says. "I don't know exactly. I do , um, I know when I, well when it became obvious it was more than just that."

 

"When was that?" she says wiping the tears away finally, and reaches out a hand to take his in hers. She gives it a squeeze and gives him a smile. It's fuckin weird to be telling her this but also freeing. He's never told anyone this before, not Ella, not Harry, no one. He didn't want to say it out loud because then he'd have to admit it was true. 

 

"The woman, um, there was this woman who basically well she was a dominatrix and people who liked to,"

 

"I know what it is, John," Mary says with a sly smile.

 

"Well one of her things was that, well she knew what people liked and, well she faked her death, which I know sounds insane. Apparently I know loads of people who fake their death." John pauses and looks at Mary who nods her head, shrugs her shoulders, she's guilty too it seems. "And well then she came back and, well , basically she told me that she was gay and I said I wasn't and then...," John blows out a breath. "She basically said she was in love with Sherlock and so was I."

 

"Oh."

 

"And she knows, she knows what people like and, well then things got a bit weird after that but I knew, yeah, I knew she was right."

 

"And you never, I mean, ever? Not even on your stag night?" Mary asks calmly, almost gently.

 

"No, never. The stag night, no why would? Oh." John slumps back on the couch as a memory percolates to his mind, he now realizes what he missed lo those many months ago.

 

"That's why you said to have fun and get it out my system if I had to. Oh."

 

Mary slumps back on the couch next to him, side by side. She doesn't say anything for a minute, just breathes along with him. It's good, fine. She's happy they're talking.

 

"I just," she says. "I wanted you to enjoy yourself."

 

"And it didn't bother you that you sent me off to ...to-" John cant quite say THAT out loud.

 

"It didn't," she says. I wanted you to be happy and I know he makes you happy. Though," she laughs. "I can kinda see how insane it is."

 

"Ya think?" John says, a grin comes on his face though. She's laughing and he can't help but laugh too.

 

"God," she says. "I'm knackered."

 

"Me too," John agrees.

 

"So let's table this for another day? Sherlock's fine and soon it'll be over. And maybe one day we'll all go out for a drink and figure it out."

 

"Maybe," John idly agrees , his eyes drooping, he heart feeling light. As he falls asleep on the touch he feels a kiss on his cheek, a blanket draped over him.

 

"mm sher fine," he mumbles out then he's asleep.

 

***

 

John is staring at them remembering when he admitted to her that he had feelings for Sherlock. And now he gets what this is. This is the drink she mentioned and this is her making amends. But he doesn't like it. He moves away from both of them quickly, holds out a hand to indicate they shouldn't come closer.

 

"Have you two been, been planning things behind my back?"

 

Sherlock looks over to Mary and then to John.

 

"John, I-, we," Sherlock stumbles over his words and John knows his answer.

 

"John," Mary says. "I want to have sex with Sherlock."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Um....

"John," Mary says. "I want to have sex with Sherlock."

John isn't thrown, he's fuckin launched into outer space by what she's saying. It isn't a joke, he can tell.  He looks from her to Sherlock, tries to see what Sherlock thinks about this utter madness. Sherlock's face, of course, shows him nothing. He can't tell a thing. All these years he's been getting better at understanding Sherlock, but as always, when it comes to something really important he can't tell anything for shit.

"Sherlock?" John says. His eyes pleading for a bloody good explanation to what the hell she's talking about. But Sherlock says nothing. There is a glimmer gone too fast for John to see , to understand anything. Sherlock moves next to Mary, Mary then takes his hand in hers. Sherlock seems to look down momentarily at their joined hands then takes a deep breath and then looks up at John.

"I'm sorry, John," Sherlock says.

"Sorry?" John stares at them, widens his eyes, he takes a step back, shakes his head. This is not happening. And if it is then sorry doesn't begin to cover it. "I-" John says and he huffs out a laugh. "You're kidding. What do you mean sorry?"

"Oh, John," Mary starts to say.

"No, you, you don't get to say anything," John says and he points a finger at her, as if daring her to keep talking. "I don't know what your game is because you, you know but," he turns to Sherlock. "You? Is this? Sherlock, what are you? Please say-" John stops himself because his voice is about to crack and he's already fainted tonight. He doesn't need to add that.  He doesn't want their pity just an explanation, and for the explanation to be that it's all a joke and they have horrible senses of humor.

"John?" Sherlock starts to step forward,  his free hand out reaches towards John, but Mary tugs at their joined hands and he steps back.

"Just," John says. He clenches and unclenches both his hands.  He doesn't unclench his teeth and he says, "explain."

Mary is the first to speak and Sherlock looks away as she does.  Mary looks at John firmly in the eyes and says. "We're going to go into that room over there and ,John, honestly I think this will be good for us. " She gives a half-hearted smile, tilts her head.

John just shakes his head no because no, no. Absolutely not. "If you," John starts to speak and he has to take a step back, put distance between himself and them. He steps back , looks down and away as if he's weighing this out and comes to a decision.  Then he looks back, but not at Mary. He looks over at Sherlock who is still turned away. "Look at me," John says but Sherlock doesn't move. "I said look at me." John repeats himself more firmer and Sherlock does indeed look over at him.  John doesn't know what is going on because he could almost swear, but no. "What is this, Sherlock?" John asks and his voice is pleading and he knows it sounds pathetic but what is he left with in this moment?  Sherlock's silence stretches on and on. John understands then. This is something that is actually happening and there is nothing he can do to stop it. So fine, fine. He always said they'd make a bloody good couple. The two of them must've realized it too. So he nods his head once, twice, and says, "If you do this then there is no going back. I don't know what kind of game this is you're both playing but  it's done. I'm done."

John is looking dead straight at Sherlock and Sherlock is taking deep, shallow breaths as if he is the one whose world is falling apart here and not John's.

"Well?" John asks. Sherlock seems like he's about to speak but he stops himself and isn't that saying something. Sherlock Holmes has nothing to say to him? "Fine," John says. "Fine." He doesn't punch anything though mentally he is throwing around everything, creating a wave of destruction in the small flat, but he stops himself. "Fine," he says again. Then he takes a brief look around the place, looks to the kitchen, at the partner's desk, at the wall, at the bloody sofa, finally at their chairs. Then he looks to Mary and then to Sherlock. Then John Watson walks out of 221B with no intention to ever return again.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DUDE I DON'T EVEN KNOW

Sherlock released Mary's hands once John has left their home. He turns to look at her. Mary, not missing at beat, understands that Sherlock is asking a question without saying any words.

 

"Do you trust me?" she says.

"Absolutely not." Sherlock replies quickly.

"In this at least?"

Sherlock nods his head minutely, slowly then quicker as if picking up speed in the belief that perhaps he should continue to lend to her understanding  in this matter.

"How much time do we have?" He asks.

"How long does it take him to catch a cab? He won't want to take the tube after that you know."

"Appallingly long," Sherlock says.

"Okay. Good," Mary says. "Good."

It is then that Sherlock realizes that they are here and an answer has been given. She knows. He still can't quite say. He isn't sure if he's understanding it fully. Mary sits on the sofa and leans her head back. It appears she is blinking back tears.

"Mary...," Sherlock starts to say but then he realizes he is unsure of what to say in this matter. What comfort he can give when part of him simply wants to run after John right now?

"Just let me cry, Sherlock," She says. "God just for a second. I know." She wipes a tear from her eye, then raises her head, looks over at Sherlock. She gives a weak smile. "I know it's for the best. Doesn't mean I can't be sad."

"So what does this mean?" Sherlock asks because John isn't here to explain it. This is human interaction far beyond anything Sherlock could understand.

"Oh, Sherlock," She says with a hollow laugh. "Who did he seem most upset with?"

 

****

John walks out of 221 Baker street and is prepared to take a taxi when he realizes he'll never catch one. Besides he needs to walk. He won't be able to walk back to his and Mary's flat, but he isn't even sure that's where he wants to go. In fact, he thinks, it's definitely not where he wants to go. He starts walking slowly down the street, hands in his pocket. He doesn't understand what happened back there. Part of him wishes it were an elaborate practical joke. He thinks of a variety of reasons as to why they'd do this. Perhaps Moriarty bested the both of them and they were forced to send him away like he's Red Yeller or something. Tell him something entirely fucked up and get him to go. No, he thinks, Sherlock wouldn't do that to him again. Or at least John hopes that he wouldn't. He wonders if perhaps Sherlock got high at some point in the night and Mary partook as well.  Maybe they were both high, he thinks. But also no. They were all a bit tipsy at one point , but he thinks back to how they looked just before he left. when they were holding fuckin hands and he knows those were two lucid people. Fuck.

He doesn't understand how or why Sherlock could do this to him. And, okay in all honesty he thought Sherlock was..or he hoped ( _Hoped?_ ) at least. Or maybe not hoped. He just thought he was. So does that mean it's all been in his head this entire time? And God isn't that something else entirely fucked up that he doesn't want to think about.   _God, Watson, get a hold of yourself. What are the most upset with then? That Sherlock isn't gay and you two weren't dancing around each other for years or that your wife wants to sleep with him?_

_Fuck, fuck, FUCK._

He looks up then and notices sees people looking at him and he realizes that he has walked a fair ways and is in the midst of a crowd of tourist who just learned that the British aren't as polite as stereotypes would have them believe.

"Sorry," he says. "Sorry." He raises a hand as if he's trying to calm them, or himself, down.  Then he realizes it's not possible for him to calm down because he deserves answers. John Watson turns on his heel and heads back to 221B.


End file.
